


The Snow of Caradhras

by And_Dream_Of_Erebor



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:21:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/And_Dream_Of_Erebor/pseuds/And_Dream_Of_Erebor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt from the Hobbit Kink Meme: "While the Fellowship is spending the night on Caradhas, Gimli gets cold. Legolas holds him to keep him warm."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Snow of Caradhras

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt from the Hobbit Kink Meme: "While the Fellowship is spending the night on Caradhas, Gimli gets cold. Legolas holds him to keep him warm."  
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/2320.html?thread=22651664#t22651664
> 
> When I read the prompt my first reaction was "But they still hated each other then!" Then I realised that was exactly why I liked the idea.
> 
> The sentences spoken by Gandalf are direct quotes from the book.

Legolas had never before seen so much snow. Although in his forest the winters were harsh and the snowfalls were heavy, very little snow ever reached the ground, so thick and strong was the canopy. The stinging, blinding whiteness that surrounded him now was a new experience. But then, he reminded himself, this was not ordinary snow. There was a powerful, malicious mind behind this storm. He could sense it and hear it easily; even the mortals in his company felt it.

He was able to walk with ease without sinking, but for the Men the snow was now knee-deep, and the Halflings were following in the path of their footprints – they probably would not have managed it on their own. Even Gimli was, he noticed, walking with some trouble; as if he felt Legolas looking at him, the Dwarf gave him a dark look and Legolas quickly looked away.

Gradually the glowing whiteness changed into night. The Fellowship kept moving forward. Behind Legolas, Gandalf was talking to Gimli; the Dwarf suggested that it would have been better to pass through Moria – although he didn't call it Moria, using instead some unpronounceable name in the harsh-sounding language of Dwarves. Legolas expected Gandalf to dismiss the idea as outrageous, but the wizard replied mildly that he preferred not to go through Moria unless there was no other course left. To Legolas’s surprise, he too used the Dwarvish name for Moria.

The blizzard was soon joined by another danger:  stones started falling down the mountainside. It became obvious they could not go any further until morning. They sought shelter under a cliff, and Boromir was the first to suggest that they remain there until morning. No one contradicted him. They all gathered together, and Gandalf passed around a flask of _miruvor_ , a cordial of Imladris. Each of the Fellowship took a little: for once, the dwarf did not complain about being offered an Elven drink. The _miruvor_ restored warmth to their limbs and hope to their hearts, but only for a short while. As the night grew darker the cold grew more merciless, and snow never ceased to pile around them. It would soon be as high as a wall.

Frodo was leaning against the cliff, silent, his hands folded around his chest – either to protect himself from the cold, or the Ring against the malevolent force that was surrounding them, or both. The other three Halflings were huddled around him. In an attempt to cheer him up, Samwise said:

“Imagine that, Mr Frodo! This much snow, all at once! I can’t wait to tell them all about it when we come back to the Shire. If only we could pack some in a cart and take it home with us! What a treat for the children of Hobbiton!”

Frodo gave a faint smile, and the other two Halflings joined in the conversation with enthusiasm, putting together a list of enemies they wished to hit with snowballs. But Legolas couldn’t help noticing that Samwise had paused slightly before he said “when we come back”, as if it had taken some effort not to say “if we come back”.

Soon the Hobbits’ conversation quieted down. They were now visibly shivering with cold. Boromir noticed it too, and when he suggested lighting a fire, Gandalf didn’t object.

“If there are any watchers that can endure this storm they can see us, fire or no,” he said.

They piled up the wood and kindling they had brought with them, and Boromir attempted to light the fire with flint and steel.  But even with the whole group gathered around him, forming a living shield against the wind, the sparks would die immediately.

“Let me try,” Legolas said, but his attempts proved just as unsuccessful.

“Since when do Elves know anything about stone and steel?” Gimli said. Legolas gave him an irritated look, but handed him the steel and flint. Although the Dwarf did manage to produce the brightest sparks, the kindling still refused to catch fire. Finally Gandalf stood up with a sigh, pointed his staff at the pile of wood and said: “ _Naur an edraith amen_!” A flame of a strange, bluish colour sprang out.

“If there are any to see, then at least I am revealed to them. I have written _Gandalf is here_ in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the mouths of Anduin,” Gandalf muttered. But no one shared his concern – a vague future threat was less frightening than immediate death from the cold. Legolas stepped aside to let the others gather around the fire; although he was wearing the lightest clothes and shoes, his blood was the warmest and he knew that the others’ discomfort was greater than his.

He tried to look at the mountains around them, but the darkness filled with swirling snow defied even his Elven sight. Nevertheless, he could feel how small and frail their fire was against the vast, cold darkness around them. There was evil in the wind, in the snow and in the cawing of crows, and there was also evil in their midst, in the small gold object they were carrying to Mordor. Legolas closed his eyes and felt a wave of sorrow come over him. Victory – even survival – seemed so unlikely. But then he pulled himself away from these thoughts and looked at the others again.

The Fellowship was gathered around the fire, holding their hands as close to the flames as they could bear. Gimli moved back a little to allow Frodo to come closer to the fire, and leaned against the cliff. On an impulse he didn’t quite understand, Legolas went over and sat next to him.

In the strange, bluish light Gandalf’s fire made, the Dwarf’s face and his bright red beard had a strange, purplish tint. Some snow had caught on his hair and beard, reminding Legolas of frost on autumn leaves.

The Dwarf glanced aside at him. “What are you looking at, Elf?” he said in a voice that was trying to be angry, but came out as merely tired. He pulled at his coat, trying to wrap it more tightly around his body.

“You’re cold,” Legolas said.

“No, I’m not!” Gimli said, as if the very idea was an insult.

“You are,” Legolas said and carefully reached out to touch Gimli’s face. He placed his hand on the Dwarf’s cheek; against his warm hand, it seemed as cold as snow. “You should return to the fire.”

“I told you, I’m not cold,” Gimli said in a grumpy voice, but as he spoke he closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against Legolas’s hand.

“Don’t Dwarves ever stop being stubborn?” Legolas said softly. He withdrew his hand, moved closer to Gimli and reached for his hands, enclosing them between his own.

“No, never,” Gimli said. He shifted slightly and moved closer to Legolas. His hands were broad and strong, but to Legolas they felt cold like the hands of a stone statue. He enclosed them more firmly and said:

“Not even in the face of death?”

“Especially not in the face of death,” Gimli said quietly. They sat in silence, watching the flickering of the fire. Warmth was slowly returning to Gimli’s hands, so Legolas released them, but then tentatively put an arm around his shoulder. Gimli did not protest.

They watched the fire as it slowly died out. The Men, and especially the Hobbits, remained around the embers as long as they gave traces of warmth, and then gathered again in the shelter of the cliff. No one slept, but no one spoke either. There was no light now in the frozen darkness around them, but somehow, while listening to the breathing of the Dwarf beside him and the heavy, deep sound of his heartbeat, Legolas did not feel that all hope was lost.

By dawn the snow had stopped falling, but the light revealed that their path had disappeared completely, and up above them Caradhras was still veiled in clouds. There was nothing for them to do but to return downhill, if they could find their path. Legolas and Gimli moved away from one another in uneasy silence; later, as Legolas led the way down the slope, he could hardly believe he had spent several hours embracing a Dwarf. It was like a strange dream caused by the darkness and the danger. It would not happen again.


End file.
